Perfect
by h4lfpr1nce
Summary: Everything was perfect at Dalton Academy. That's what Kurt kept telling himself. Everything was perfect. Then things changed and nothing was. R&R pretty please. Warning: Kurt/OC non-con.


**So I was writing this yesterday and was like..." this is too long for a one-shot. I'm going to make it an actual story with chapters." I will try my hardest to not mix up any details from my other ongoing story, because the personalities in this one are really different. Anyway, here's the first chapter. Read, enjoy, and review please. **

**P.S. - if anyone wants to flame this or even criticize it I will send you a thank-you note. Nothing else I've written has been really criticized and certainly not flamed yet, so you might have the honor of being the first. Honestly people, how can I improve my writing if no one tells me anything is wrong with it? **

**Warnings:**

**Non-con Kurt/OC relationship. I didn't put in any real details, but I felt it should be mentioned before you continue reading.**

**I do not own Glee, but am looking forward to it's return in a week. I can't wait.**

It was perfect, really.

He was in a school full of handsome boys with a zero-tolerance harassment policy, so he could walk around ogling them without being thrown into dumpsters.

He was in the Warblers, who were famous in this school, and he was a hot commodity. A counter-tenor was a good thing to be, rare, and especially so in a school filled with low-voiced boys. McKinley hadn't treated him with the respect and admiration he deserved, just because they had girls who could sing in the same range as him. Couldn't they see that it was so much more special when he sang those notes than when that damn Rachel Berry did? He was better than all of them anyway.

But it didn't matter. It was perfect now.

It was perfect because he had Blaine. Blaine the mentor, Blaine the friend, Blaine the crush. Blaine who he fell harder for than he ever had before, not even with Finn. Blaine who was actually gay, Blaine who could love him back.

It was perfect because despite the uniform, after classes and on weekends he could be decked out in full fashionable glory. Yes, all the other boys kept their uniforms on, but he had looked it up and the rules said nothing about it either way. Besides, he wasn't like other boys.

He was special. He was fashionable and good-looking with pristine skin and hair. He could sing and act and dance- a triple threat- and had more talent in any one area than most people had in their whole bodies. So what if he could be a bitch sometimes? He deserved to be. Neither his roommate nor Blaine seemed to mind.

Ah, his roommate. Jacob. Yet another example of the perfection that was Dalton Academy. He really couldn't ask for a better one even if he got to choose. He would rather have his current roommate than Blaine, and that was saying something.

He was always kind.

He didn't mind Kurt's constant sarcasm and biting remarks.

He picked up his clothes and folded them instead of throwing them on the floor.

He didn't care about Kurt's sexual orientation or sharing a room with him in the least.

He always let Kurt pick out the music they listened to.

He could play the guitar like he was born holding it.

He seemed like he knew everything Kurt liked before they even spoke to each other.

He had a nice face and a killer body, and he often got out of the shower wearing nothing but boxers.

Showering. That was what he was doing when Kurt walked in the room. Kurt smiled to himself a little- he would be getting some eye candy later. It wasn't like he felt anything for his roommate; his heart beat solely for Blaine. But what was the point of having a sexy roommate if one wasn't allowed to look at him a little?

Kurt sat on his bed, looking first at the halo of light around the door, then elsewhere. His eyes had already swept around the room once when he noticed it.

Under the pool of light cast by the desk lamp was a moderately sized bottle. Kurt's first instinct was to think alcohol and had been ever since that incident with April Rhodes. And magazines full of muscular, shirtless men. And calling the guidance councilor "Bambi" before throwing up on her shoes. God, he didn't want to remember that- he had avoided alcohol like the plague since then.

Still, he went closer to inspect the bottle, and it turned out to not be alcohol at all. Rather, it was apple cider.

Kurt almost chugged the bottle right then and there, regardless of the fact that it wasn't his. Apple cider was both his weakness and his vice- he absolutely loved it but hadn't had any for what felt like much too long. He blamed the stores for considering it a seasonal drink rather than a year-round one. He was stuck looking longingly at it, waiting until Jacob finally got out of the shower and could be badgered into giving Kurt some.

He began counting the seconds, pretending they were minutes and Jacob would be getting out after any one of them, but couldn't decide if it was making the wait seem longer or shorter so he stopped and looked around the room once again. That was when he saw the note. Focusing on the drink intently, he had failed to notice the plastic cups on the edge of the desk or the sticky note stuck to one of them.

_**Kurt, feel free to drink as much of this as you like-**_

_**as long as you leave some for me!**_

_**Jacob **_

Jacob really was the perfect roommate. Kurt had no doubt in his mind anymore about that fact. He pulled the cap with an already broken seal off the bottle and filled one of the cups to the brim, bringing it up to is full, pink lips. _Delicious_.

It had a bit of an aftertaste, but Kurt thought that was probably just the brand or something, and poured himself another cup. And another.

By now he was halfway through the bottle and Jacob did want him to leave a little, so he decided to stop. He was feeling kind of… strange, anyway.

He was beginning to be lightheaded, and he couldn't think about why that would be. It was as if someone had put a cloud or a thick mass of fog over his mind, and he didn't mind it all that much. He didn't really care about anything at the moment.

He also felt… warm. All over. He wanted to do something, not sure what in his muddled state, and reached out his hand towards the bottle of cider before finding that he couldn't move it all that well. The little movement he managed sent a wave of vertigo crashing into him.

The world was spinning spinning spinning spinning around his head and he staggered a bit. That sent him reeling even more and he was dizzy and the room was spinning and spinning and he couldn't keep his footing because he couldn't move his legs and he couldn't concentrate on moving them because his mind was all cloudy and didn't care about any of it, not one bit, and he could only spin inside his brain and watch helplessly and unconcernedly as the room tilted one way then another, then back and he got closer and closer and closer to the floor very very fast… or was it getting closer to him?

He could feel the impact. He could feel the hardwood floor pond against his body, then a split-second later his face with twice as much force. It wasn't that he couldn't feel the pain or register that it hurt; it was more like he just didn't care and didn't understand why he should care that it hurt.

Why should he care if it hurt? If he could feel blood trickling down his face to the floor?

Why should he care that he couldn't move?

Why should he care that he was absurdly dizzy?

Why should he care that he was losing feeling off and on, and his vision was going black and he was so very sleepy?

Why should he care that it was blacker.

Blacker.

Blacker.

Blacker. Then…

Nothing. Lethean oblivion.

* * *

He was there he was present he was alert and then he… wasn't. He didn't know what he was. He didn't know anything because he was nothing and nothing couldn't thing or know anything. At least, that was the jumbled mess of thought in his mind when he first regained a bit of consciousness. He could feel… He could feel! _Ow! _He could feel pain. Excruciating pain. He wasn't sentient enough to tell where it was coming from, but it was there and…

He felt sick and…

Nothing. He was nothing again.

When he truly regained consciousness, he was confused.

_Who am I? Where am I? What was I doing?_

He slowly remembered. Kurt. Dorm room. And… waiting. He was waiting for something, but couldn't remember what. He saw the lines of light glowing around the door and thought he must be waiting for Jacob to finish his shower, so he could… do what? It didn't matter thought. He felt like nothing had changed.

But then he felt like everything had changed. The room was, just a little, darker than it was earlier. He couldn't read the clock and didn't remember that it had said, but he was sure the blurred numbers read as a bigger number than they had earlier. It wasn't just the numbers; the rest of the room was blurry as well.

The cider bottle was gone… the cider! That is what he had been waiting for! Where was it? Gone? Oh…

But he realized his position was wrong too. He had been sitting on Jacob's bed, why was he in his own? He… where were his shoes, those expensive shoes? Where was his… Wait! Where were his shirt and pants and…Oh god!

He jolted and sat bolt upright, because something was very wrong, and a bolt of pain ran excruciatingly down his body. It seemed like it was everywhere, but then it seemed like it was radiating from his… lower spine? His backside? His…?

A feeling of dread broke through the haze still clouding his mind, and he got up despite the pain, hobbled over, and flung open the door to the closet. He somehow managed to do so without passing out from the overbearing, constant ache.

His appearance startled him enough to clear his mind just a little. He had bruises and dark red splotches all over his pale, bare body. He had blood running down his face, though mostly dry, and blood running down elsewhere from somewhere he didn't want to think about.

He felt a strong sense of disgust grip him at the sight of his body, stronger than the pain or the shock, and a desperate need to cover it up with something, anything. He reached into the closet and pulled out god knows what, some type of shirt and lose pants, and attempted to put them on as best he could with his befuddlement and agony that grew worse with each movement.

The door to the bathroom opened loudly, startling Kurt who had not even been lucid enough to hear the shower turn off, and Jacob walked out.

He was soaking wet and leering with a most unbecoming satisfied smile. He took as step towards Kurt, who was impaled with razor-edged, irrational fear at the sight of him. He didn't comprehend why he was afraid, he just knew it was worse than anything, a thousand times worse than what he had felt with Karofsky, and he had to get away.

He ran out the door of the room and down the hall, keeping going despite the fact that every step made the pain and dizziness grow worse. He went and went until he couldn't anymore, and then pounded on a door, not even registering that it was Blaine's.

He passed out before it opened and lay slumped on the floor, unbuttoned shirt revealing the marks on his chest and stomach. Blaine opened the door a few seconds later, and then went into a nonresponsive state of panic before remembering how his feet and fingers worked. As soon as he gained use of them he dialed 911, reporting with his alarm-filled voice and frequent sobs that his friend was injured and passed out on the floor and he didn't know what happened and he was in the senior wing of Dalton Academy.

* * *

First came the sounds. Then the smells. Then feeling. Then one blink, and another, as Kurt's eyes slowly opened to let in a bright white light.

The light was interrupted by a beautiful pair of hazel eyes that he shied away from. They were reminiscent of other eyes, scary, horrible, evil eyes that he couldn't place- he just had a vague impression of them. The eyes were followed into his vision by a mop of curly brown hair, usually slicked back, and he realized he was seeing Blaine and relaxed a little.

Blaine smiled a reassuring smile and attempted to take Kurt's hand, but Kurt flinched back from the contact as though he was scalded. The worst part was that he didn't even know why he did. He usually loved any touch or sign of affection from Blaine. He looked at his surroundings and saw that he was in a hospital. He had detested hospitals since his mom died, and even more after he had been forced to go there after his dad had the heart attack. Now he was in one himself.

"Do you know what happened to you?" Blaine asked gently, but clearly without any knowledge on the subject. Kurt had been just about to ask Blaine the same thing, but he guessed that was out now. Kurt racked his memory for any clue. There was a hazy cloud, an ethereal screen over his memories, but he got a few impressions from them.

"I… waiting… and then cider… and nothing… and then I woke up and… pain… lots of pain… and then nothing again. I don't remember anything else. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He choked and stammered out, bursting into tears without a known cause.

"Shhhh… It's ok. You don't have to remember. It's fine," Blaine said, trying for comfort but obviously out of his league. He felt like crying along with Kurt, not calming him. He hated that he was in the dark, unable to answer anything, but most of all he hated that Kurt was suffering, and he could do nothing to make it better.

Just then a doctor entered, the new face sending a shiver of fear through Kurt before he banished it. He may have hated hospitals, but he didn't hate the doctors in them. Though they couldn't help his mother they had saved his father, and for that he was eternally grateful. A woman walked in behind him, causing no reaction from Kurt. He considered this and concluded it must only be men.

"What… what happened?" Kurt asked the doctor, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer. The doctor fidgeted and shifted his eyes away nervously as though trying to avoid the subject. With all the shifting, his gaze never fell directly in Kurt. Kurt felt somehow that he was unclean with the way the man's eyes avoided meeting his. Finally the man spoke, steeling himself to say the words.

"You were… raped," He said, hesitating for the longest time before bringing himself to say the words, "Do you know who did it? Would you like to press charges?"

He gestured to the lady who had followed him into the room, "Mrs. Green works for the police, and would like to take a statement. Your parents are on the way here."

He walked out of the room, followed by the woman, to give Kurt time to think. Kurt was doing too much of that already.

_Raped? Me? _He thought in shock and disgust. _I lost my virginity and I can't remember it or who did it to me? What if… what if I have an STD or something? What will I tell Dad?_

At this point Kurt registered that his family was coming, and groaned. _I can't believe Dad is going to find out. What is this going to do to his heart?_ Kurt was just going to worry more, so he tried to stop thinking. Instead, he looked up at Blaine with scared eyes.

Blaine looked horrified but not completely shocked. Kurt's mind painted disgust and derision on the features as well. _Great, now Blaine will never like me back. He won't take damaged goods._

Blaine saw the pain and shock clearly on Kurt's face as he was told the news. He imagined how it must feel for Kurt, who already got as worked up as he had over a kiss. He thought the emotion must be overwhelming for Kurt and sure enough Kurt looked at him with wounded eyes before falling asleep, overcome with the excess of emotion felt in such a short time.

Blaine just sat there staring at Kurt until Kurt's father, Burt, rushed into the room with a worried expression, flanked by a woman and an absurdly tall teenage boy with puppy dog looks. Blaine assumed they were Kurt's new step- mom and brother. Kurt's dad barely glanced at Blaine before devoting his whole attention to Kurt. The man grabbed the sleeping boy's hand, causing him to twitch a little and scrunch up his face with displeasure in his sleep. The man's green eyes started forming water droplets along the bottom rim. He fell to his knees, oblivious to those looking on, and the tears spilled over freely, leaving tracks down his face.

Between the shuddering sobs, Blaine could hear muffled repetition of the word, "Why?" over and over again, as if the answer would suddenly come. As if it would somehow make things better.

* * *

Kurt woke up once more, yet again startled and in fear of the faces hovering above his own. As his vision cleared, the faces transformed from enemies into familiar people. There was Blaine, Finn, Carole, and… his dad. Oh god, he couldn't even recognize his own father.

Memories of the last time he woke up flooded his mind. The disgust and self-loathing he was beginning to feel earlier came back in full force. The tear tracks down his father's face felt like ropes around Kurt's heart, cutting off his blood circulation and killing him ever so slowly and excruciatingly.

_How could I let this happen? How could I put him through this?_

The doctor entered at that moment, looking glad that Kurt was awake. He felt awake, unlike last time, and his body screamed in protest when he tried to move it. He felt a tug at the skin on his elbow and looked down in surprise to find an IV stuck in his arm. How had he not noticed that before? He assumed the hospital had drugged him and that it had worn off, explaining the pain he felt. Still, he finally felt fully sentient again.

The woman he had seen earlier walked in, and Kurt knew what was coming. He asked in a small, hoarse voice if everyone surrounding him would leave. The woman stopped him.

"Your father needs to stay because you are not an adult yet. Your… friend needs to stay because he is the closest thing to a witness we have."

Carole and Finn got up and left, leaving Blaine and Kurt's dad next to Kurt and the doctor sitting in the corner, looking uncomfortable.

The woman came over to him, not pressing him when he pulled back before she touched him. At least he knew why he was doing that now. She spoke in a gentle voice.

"Can you tell me what happened? What you remember?"

"I…" His memory was more focused than earlier, but still just as blank," I remember walking into my dorm room- I didn't lock the door behind me- and sitting on the bed. I remember being excited about something and drinking something, then… nothing. The next thing I knew I was here."

"He said something about cider earlier," Blaine supplied helpfully. Kurt's father flinched at this for some reason and tears welled up in his eyes again.

"That's… apple cider is… it's his favorite drink." Blaine looked a little shocked at the information.

"That means whoever did this must have know him well," he said, reconsidering the list of people he might have to kill.

Burt suddenly turned to glare at him, practically spitting out words with anger.

"You're the one he's closest to in that damned school!" His voice rose as his anger intensified, "If I find out you've hurt my son I'll-"

"Dad!" Kurt suddenly shot up to restrain his father, wincing at the pain of movement, "It wasn't Blaine, I'm sure! Calm down! Think of your heart!"

Kurt wanted to kill himself for putting his father through this.

"It could just be a coincidence, Mr. Hummel," The woman said, consoling his father a little. He sat back down, "but it is still something to consider. Did you tell anyone that this was your favorite drink, Kurt?"

He racked his brain, digging through massive amounts of conversations, finally finding the right one. He was sitting in his room soon after his transfer, laughing and talking to-

Blaine was similarly going through his mind, trying to determine which person at Dalton Kurt was closest to. The only one Kurt was really friends with was-

They both realized the answer at the same time, and answered simultaneously.

"Jacob." The name sent a thrill of fear through Kurt's spine down his whole body.

"No, it can't be. Jake is my friend! He's straight-" Kurt started in denial, but stopped midsentence. _Is Jacob straight? We never really talked about that…_

Blaine was less sure than Kurt. He had seen an evil, hungry gleam in the boy's eyes on several occasions, but hadn't said anything. Jacob was Kurt's friend, something he needed more of, and Blaine also didn't want to ruin his own chances of moving from mentor to something else by making Kurt angry. He put his head in his hands and sighed, berating himself inwardly. _How could I be so stupid?_

The woman looked at Kurt with kind eyes and said, "We'll know for sure when the results of the tests come out. They got some of his DNA."

Kurt shuddered to think what they had gotten DNA from, and at the same time the doctor shifted noticeably in his seat, as though he wanted to run from the room.

"What?" the woman snapped at him, cold eyes so different from the ones she had shown Kurt a few seconds ago. They locked on the doctor's nervous, shifting eyes and held them.

"The tests came out… inconclusive," The doctor was standing and shifting weight from foot to foot and being quite obvious in his lying. Now both Blaine and Burt were joining it the glare.

"What really happened?" Blaine said through gritted teeth, tensed as if to fight.

The doctor's nervousness changed to a repulsive smirk and he told them.

"I threw it away. It wasn't necessary. Why should you press charges? The boy is gay, right? The little faggot probably _wanted_ it."

Blaine and Burt were lunging towards the smirking doctor and even the woman had her hands balled into tight fists, but somehow Kurt got there first. With blood running in little rivulets down the bare skin of his arm where the IV had been yanked out, Kurt slapped the surprised doctor hard across the face. Kurt collapsed to the floor, looking up with hate-filled eyes.

Though his very position screamed weak, Kurt's eyes were hard and stronger than ever. He hit the doctor with icy words in a dangerous tone Blaine didn't know Kurt had.

"Don't you _ever _say I wanted this! Don't you _dare_! Now go get me a doctor who's not a homophobe and not a _bastard_!" The doctor backed away slowly from the boy on the floor, somehow intimidated by him.

"NOW!" Kurt screamed, waiting until the doctor sped from the room before crying. His father and Blaine put their hands on his back to console him and even though his body cringed and demanded that he shake them off he let their hands stay there as the woman who was questioning him called for a nurse.

The nurse came in and did a double-take at the scene before remembering her job. She helped Kurt, who was wearing a dead, emotionless expression, back to his bed and cleaned up his arm before inserting the IV again in a slightly different spot. She quietly asked the other woman if she was done with the interrogation before administering the medication. Then she left.

The woman looked at the scene with sad, expressive eyes before handing the father her card.

"My name is Linda, Linda Green, and you can feel free to call me if he remembers anything else. Or if you need anything. I'm going to investigate this Jacob person."

She walked out of the room, leaving Blaine with Kurt's father and a sleepy-looking Kurt. He exchanged a few words with the former before following her example. Before entering the waiting room, he saw the woman talking to the new doctor. He couldn't hear much, but what he did hear jarred him. He tried not to let it show as he walked into the waiting room.

He strode up to Carole and Finn.

"Mr. Hummel would like you two to check into the hotel up the street while he stays the night here. I will be as well," He said, sounding more composed than he felt. They both just nodded silently and left, casting worried glances down the corridor Blaine had come from.

* * *

Alone in the hotel room he had gotten. Blaine was left with nothing but his thoughts. He ignored the calls from Wes and David wondering where he was and ignored the desire to run back to the hospital. He just mulled two words over, repeating them in his mind a thousand times without drifting off to sleep. They shook him each time as they had when he first heard Mrs. Green whispering them to the doctor.

_Suicide risk._


End file.
